


Shared Secrets

by HanBan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), dan howell/phil lester - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pansexual, Phil helping Dan figure things out, Uni AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:19:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanBan/pseuds/HanBan
Summary: "I know your secret. I know you're gay"Well, that wasn't a secret but okay. Why does Dan care though?





	1. I know your secret

“Lester!”  
I turn around, trying to figure out who that was, shouting my name through the entire classroom instead of just coming up to me. And then I see him. Daniel Howell. He's leaning against the door frame, his backpack casually over one shoulder, hands in his pocket, eyes fixed on me. I frown and even hear my friends start whispering behind me. Dan and I aren't exactly friends. Sure, we're friendly – I'm friendly with everyone – but we've only ever really talked in uni-situations and even then we never exchanged more than a few sentences.   
“Can I speak to you for a minute?”  
There's something in his expression that makes me question whether he is actually as relaxed as he tries to look. It's not nervousness, but he still seems cautious of his surroundings, as if he's afraid of getting caught or something.  
I look at my group of friends whom I had just been comparing notes for today's debate topic with and see some of them shrug to let me know they have no idea what Dan could want from me either. So I just put down my notebook for them to look at and make my way over to the door, where Dan still waits for me, his backpack now laying on top of the desk closest to him. As soon as I reach him he turns around and gestures for me to follow him into the hallway.   
My irritation only grows when he walks all the way to the end of the hallway, to the corner of our uni building that is reserved for phone calls and naps but is empty right now seeing as it's only 8am.  
I'm about to ask him what's going on when he turns to me with a serious expression – and again that undefinable haunted look in his eyes – and starts talking.  
“I know your secret”  
At first I'm just surprised at those completely unexpected words and for a quick second I even consider what kind of horrible things he might have found out about me but then I just find this whole situation extremely amusing – like honestly, hidden corners, revealed secrets, does he think we're in some sort of spy film or something?   
So instead of freaking out, or whatever Dan had imagined my response would be, I just grin and say: “You'll have to be a bit more specific” (and yes, to be perfectly honest, I am a little curious to know what he thinks he found out about me).  
I see the slightest bit of surprise crossing Dan's face at this but he regains his serious expression immediately and leans in a bit before saying: “I know you're gay”  
And now I cannot stop myself from full on laughing, which takes Dan aback, quite literally so. This is absolutely hilarious and really bizarre – which is exactly my kind of humour.   
After I have calmed down a little and Dan has recovered from my probably uncalled for reaction I grin at him again. “That was never a secret, Howell”  
There's a change in his eyes. A shimmer. Just for a second. And then there is confusion.  
“But you like girls. I see those doodles you make in class, they are almost always of smiling girls with flowers in their hair.”  
For a moment I wonder how he know this, when he saw this, but then I realise that he does sit behind me in quite a lot of our classes. I'd never really noticed him before because he doesn't speak up much but now that he indirectly pointed it out I'm surprised I didn't see it sooner.  
“Well, first of all, what do a few doodles have to do with my sexuality? Girls are just nicer to draw, they have the softer facial features. And second, you do know that there's more than just straight and gay, right?”  
His raised eyebrow tells me he does in fact not know this. Has he been living under a rock?  
“There are,” I continue, always happy to help educate someone “also people like me, who are attracted to the person, regardless of gender. Which means that I can like girls and guys and just basically everybody.”  
Understanding creeps over his face and I smile at the thought that I just changed his world view a little bit.  
“What is that called?”  
His voice is almost a whisper which highlights its roughness more than usual and send a shiver down my spine. I have to admit, Daniel Howell isn't the most unattractive person I have ever seen. Far from it, actually. I force my mind back to the conversation at hand, slightly avoiding his eyes as I answer.  
“That's pansexuality.”  
There it is again, that shimmer in his eyes. This time he doesn't turn serious again. Instead, he turns around, apparently wanting to go back to our classroom again without acknowledging me any further. Yeah, I don't think so.  
“Hey”  
He turns back to me and takes the two steps he had already gotten away to come closer again.  
“What were you planing on doing with my 'secret' anyway? Were you gonna blackmail me?”  
Somehow, my words seem to hurt him, his mouth twitching ever so slightly, and I almost take them back – but then again, it's a fair question after the way he started this whole thing. So I just wait and after a few silent seconds he responds in a whisper, his eyes locked on the wall behind me: “No, of course not....I was gonna ask your advice. But you already said everything I needed to hear.”  
It takes me a little while to get what he means and then my eyes widen and I let out a surprised “Oh”. At the sound, his head snaps up, his eyes moving from the wall to me and in them I see that cautiousness from earlier again. It makes sense now. So to calm him down I place a hand on his shoulder and say: “You know, it's okay to ask questions.” And after quickly replaying our conversation in my head I add “It's also okay to take time to figure things out. Pansexuality isn't the only 'in between' and it's also completely fine to not know where you stand or be labelless.”  
He looks at me. Just looks at me, taking in my words, his shoulder lifting and sinking against my palm in time with his breathing. And then he leans in.  
And I move away. My hand that was on his shoulder just a second ago is now spread against his chest to keep him away.  
“Woaw” As soon as I speak up he stops dead and immediately leans back again, his eyes wide in horror of what he just did.  
“Now, it's not okay to just kiss someone,” I say, taking my hand off his chest but not moving any further away.  
“I'm so....I'm so sorry.” His fingers run through his hair, making it stick up for a second before it falls flat again, the fringe hanging in front of his eyes. “I don't know why I did that.” His gaze doesn't meet mine, his body seems restless as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “I didn't mean to. I really didn't. It just...” Then he looks at me. “I'm really sorry”  
I sigh, channelling my empathy to outweigh the shock of what almost just happened.  
“Hey, Dan.” I find his gaze, his eyes just as restless as the rest of him, and plead him to keep looking at me. “It's alright”  
A weird puff escaped his mouth before he says “No it's not”  
I shake my head, then nod. “Okay, no, it's not. But it didn't actually happen. You were probably just confused or relieved or whatever and you didn't think. But you didn't actually kiss me. It's okay.”  
He looks at me, dubious, trying to figure out if I mean what I say. I'm not too sure about that either but I do my best to smile, to let him know we're good. He relaxes a bit, his fingers loosening around his shirt, his usual casualness reclaiming his body. And then we just stand there for a while. Silent. Awkward. After a minute or so I start to move. “We should probably get back to the room”  
He nods, turns around, then stops again. When I pass him he speaks up: “Hey, Lester”  
Our eyes meet and I stop moving as well, waiting to hear what he has to say. He's almost completely back to his normal self now, his expression barely showing any emotion apart from the slight smirk that always hangs in the corner of his lips. But his fingers still hold his shirt and his right knee still shakes lightly.  
“Could I get your number?”  
My mouth opens ever so slightly, no words finding their way through because my brain goes blank. Did he actually just ask that?  
Before I can respond he adds: “For advice purposes only, I promise”  
His lips twitch, his smirk growing into a shy smile, but he doesn't say anything else or take his request back. So I agree: “Okay, fine – but really only for advice.”   
A nod and a few digits later, we both walk through the classroom door again, Dan taking his seat right next to it and me walking over to my waiting friends. Throughout the seminar I can feel him looking at me a few times, but I never look back. I always wait until he turns away to do that.


	2. Let me tell you my secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 02:47  
> Hey, I know we said only advice and I'm not sure if this counts but I've been thinking non stop since yesterday and it'd be really good to talk this through with someone

The next morning I wake to a text from an unknown number.

02:47  
Hey, I know we said only advice and I'm not sure if this counts but I've been thinking non stop since yesterday and it'd be really good to talk this through with someone

And right underneath that:

02: 53  
I mean, if that's okay.  
You don't have to obvs

In my sleepy state I can feel a grin spread across my lips at the image of Daniel Howell texting me in the middle of the night, and at the idea of him thinking about our conversation yesterday.  
He hadn't said anything to me after class, even though we had to wait at the same bus stop for almost twenty minutes, so I kind of figured that he also wouldn't actually use my number, but I'm glad he did. I'm glad he's allowing himself to think about everything I said – and probably a lot more – and that he's reaching out instead of repressing whatever he might be going through.  
So I sit up a little in my bed and respond.

Good morning Dan :)  
Sure, let's talk. 

I'm about to add something, but then I realise I'm not actually too sure what exactly he meant by 'talking'. Does he just want to text or maybe call? Or does he want to meet up? And if so, where would he be comfortable talking about sexuality? His behaviour yesterday made it pretty obvious that he didn't want anyone to listen in on our conversation or even see him getting nervous about it, which is completely understandable as long as he's still figuring stuff out, but makes it a little more difficult to find a spot where we can talk freely.  
I get my answer to all those questions a few minutes later when I walk back into my room with a fresh cup of coffee and see the notification light blinking on my phone.

Do you know those benches behind the cafeteria?   
In about an hour?

My eyes shift from his text to the clock in the upper corner of the screen to see that it is already 10 am. I slept in, something I rarely get a chance to do but allowed myself today since my only class of the day got cancelled. For a moment I consider pushing back our meeting for at least two more hours to really enjoy the lazy morning but then I remember the time stamp on Dan's first text and think that he probably was awake most of the night with a whole array of new and potentially scary thoughts washing around in his head, so I quickly agree and go back to the kitchen to get some breakfast to go with my coffee.   
45 minutes later, I walk past the uni's cafeteria, up to the small garden that is actually more of a forgotten green space since no one at the university seems to feel responsible for looking after the patch of grass and rose bushes around it. When I first came here, the roses were still recognisable as a planted frame around the grass but by now they had spread all over the place, making it impossible to even enter the square at some points, which is probably why no one ever sat on the benches in the middle any more. And why Dan had chosen this spot for our meet up.  
He isn't there yet so fight my way to the first bench and plop down after roughly cleaning up the dirt that has settled on it with a tissue. Thankfully, I always have my music with me, so I put on my favourite playlist and get lost in the rhythm, my head nodding along all by itself.   
Suddenly, a hand lands on my shoulder, making me jump as I was completely focusing on the beat in my ears, my surroundings basically nonexistent for a while. I pull out my headphones and glance up at Dan, who is smirking at me in that cocky Dan way as he sits down next to me on the bench.  
“Hey,” he starts but then pauses, obviously unsure what to say next.  
There are dark circles under his eyes, confirming my theory that 02:47 isn't the latest time he has seen last night. He still looks good though, his grey shirt and leather jacket giving the whole sleep deprived look and edgy touch, his hair slightly curling around his ears.  
I smile at him and just wait, leaving the air between us empty of words so that he can fill them in whenever he feels comfortable enough to do so. Which takes a while. About three minutes actually, in which we just sit there, staring holes into the garden around us, looking at each other every now and then. It's a bit uncomfortable, I'm not gonna lie. But this isn't my time to talk, it's his. He need this.   
And after those three minutes, he apparently realises that as well.  
“So, I googled pansexuality. And bisexuality. And some others.”  
He doesn't meet my eyes when I try to shoot him an encouraging smile, so I do my best to put all the support into my next words.  
“That's great. A really good start. Did you feel comfortable with any of those terms?”  
This time he does look up to lock eyes and his expression alone is enough for me to know what his answer will be. He says it out loud anyway.  
“No, not really. I also tried reading some personal experience stuff and like Q&As and that sort of thing to see if maybe there are like different interpretations of these words of whatever. But nothing anyone said really sounded like me.”  
It's defeating, this way in which his voice sinks with each sentence, to see his courage fade with every word. I want to help so badly because I remember exactly how he's feeling right now. I've been through all of this, ages ago, and I know how horrible it can feel to discover you are different but don't even fit in with the other different kids. It took me forever to figure out what I was, what I am, and sometimes it still doesn't feel quite right. Looking at Dan now, knowing what he's thinking, all I want to do is reach out and hug him.  
So I do.  
At first he hesitates, even pulls back a little, and I almost regret it but then he leans into my touch and wraps his arms around me in response. I wait to see if he will cry or shake or let anything else out, but he's just sitting next to me on the bench with his head in the crook of my neck, breathing slowly as if to regain control while his fingers cling to the back of my jumper.   
After a minute or so he lets go a little and so do I, but his hands stay on the small of my back and I let mine linger around his shoulders.   
His voice isn't much above a whisper when he next speaks.  
“When...how did you know?”  
I lean back, thinking about how to respond to either or both of those questions, and by that accidentally lose our touch completely. His hands land in his lap, immediately taking to fiddling with each other's thumbs, while mine hang in mid air for a second and then fall numb by my sides.   
“I don't quite remember if there was some sort of reason behind me questioning my sexuality in the first place. I don't think I had a crush or anything like that. Maybe I read about it somewhere. All I know is that I was horribly scared of not being the person I had thought I was my entire life. It wasn't even so much about coming out to others, it was more that I had this image of my future with a wife and kids and all that stuff and I didn't want to lose that. It took me almost a year to realise that I didn't have to just because I apparently also liked guys. But when I finally figured that part out, the rest was kind of easy. I did it like you, a lot of reading and watching interviews and talk shows, until I stumbled across the word 'pansexuality'. It still felt weird using that to define myself in the beginning – and to be honest, it still does sometimes – but it's what I'm most comfortable with.”  
He nods absentmindedly, his eyes travelling along the garden around us, then back to me, then to my hands, then to his own. I think he might say something, ask another question, but he stays quiet. So I decide to do the asking instead.  
“When did you start to think about this first?”  
His head snaps upwards and immediately back down again and his entire body begins to shake like it did when we talked yesterday. Apparently that's just something that happens when he gets nervous. It's quite an endearing tell for someone as cool and collected as Daniel Howell.  
“Only last semester. Though I didn't realise that what I was questioning was...well, this...for a while. I thought it might be my major or my style of clothing that didn't fit. Just...something felt off.”  
His eyes slowly travel up to mine, lingering there for a moment before he speaks again.  
“When I read those own experience reports yesterday night, a lot of them said that they only figured this stuff out when they found...”  
He breaks our eye contact to look at the roses behind me, his hands starting to shake even stronger than the rest of his body, and I'm tempted to hug him again but I want to hear what he has to say, want to give him the opportunity to finish his thought out loud.  
“...someone.”  
He adds in a whisper.  
And then.  
“Someone special.”  
All of a sudden I remember. The second day of last semester, boy who bumped into me as we both made our way into the classroom, the dark clothes and bright eyes. The look he gave me when walked into the same room again three days later.  
And I look at him now, sitting next to me, clothes still dark and eyes still bright, hands fiddling nervously as he waits for me to get what he's saying.  
I do. I get it. 100%.  
So I take his hands, not only to stop them from shaking like that.  
Dan looks at me and smiles and his body relaxes as his fingers intertwine with mine.  
“That's how I found out about you, by the way. I kind of...investigated you.”  
I chuckle at his choice of words and at the slight blush that fills his cheeks, almost making the bags under his eyes look cute.  
“I stumbled across your twitter and, well, you're not very discreet.”  
Now we both chuckle. He's right, I'm really not. And I probably should worry about that a little more – but I honestly can't really care right now, not when it got me to this point, to holding hands with Dan in a (messy) rose garden.


	3. No longer a secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed in the maybe-relationship of Dan and Phil.  
> And Dan talked to his parents.

ONE WEEK LATER

It doesn't surprise me when Dan knocks on my dorm room door.  
It's become somewhat of a tradition this past week, what with us visiting each other's dorm multiple times every day by now.   
We never do anything, like, romantic. We just talk. And hold hands sometimes. Most times.  
During the first few days our conversations still mostly revolved sexuality and identity, but we also started talking about our hobbies or what kind of music we listen to, through which we quickly discovered that we have quite a lot in common. We both love graphic novels and Muse, we watch the same shows, even took some of the same seminars in the previous semesters without noticing each other. By day four we ended up sitting in content silence while focusing on beating the other in Mario Card though Dan was definitely better than me. I suspect he let me win that one time just to make me feel better.   
Sometimes we just keep each other company while doing our homework or studying, always stealing glances over the top of our books when there's really nothing stopping us from staring freely. It's just more exciting that way. Even when our fingers are intertwined sometimes act uncertain, though some of the looks I've gotten from Dan – and probably vice versa – have been anything but that.  
And though neither of us shy away from flirting – Dan repeatedly blaming me for all his confusion – it never leads to any more than knees brushing and fingers locking. And Dan blushing, which is always my ultimate reward.

So, as I said, I'm not surprised when he knocks.  
I'm actually surprised he hasn't come by earlier since his last class ended three hours ago.  
Not that I memorized his schedule or anything.  
When he enters, he doesn't even say hello or wait for the stupid mechanic door to fully lock, but just starts talking: “I just told my parents.”  
I immediately get up to hug him even though he doesn't look that concerned. I need to remember that not everyone has a coming out experience as bad as mine. Not everyone's father gets as loud as mine. Still, I hug him tight and his chin automatically rests on my shoulder, his hands finding their place on the small of my back.   
“What did they say?” I mutter against his jacket. He's only a little taller than me but it's enough for my face to not land on top of but directly within his shoulder.  
He sighs, but it sounds more like relieve than exhaustion. “They were amazing, actually. They mostly listened to what I had to say and then asked a few questions.” A smile swings through his voice. “They both told me they love me.” Then he hesitates before adding: “And they want to meet you.”  
My hands travel to his chest to push him slightly away from me, only enough so that our eyes can meet but still leaving us close enough for his fingers to twirl around my hips.  
“Me?”  
His grin is shy, not quite as cocky as usual, but the happiness I heard before stays in his eyes and lets even this uncertainty shine golden.  
“Yeah”  
“Why?”  
“Well, when they asked if I was gay I said I didn't know and that I didn't really know what to identify as in general but that for now I just knew that I really like having a boyfriend.”  
While his smile brightens with those last words, my mouth flies open in surprise.  
“Boyfriend?”  
I must look more shocked than I realise because all of a sudden all of Dan's shimmer is gone and he starts to distance himself from me, his hands leaving my hips before I can stop them. I do however manage to hold them in mid-air, carefully linking my fingers around his and stroking my thumb across his skin to make up for my stupid reaction.  
“Sorry! Sorry, that's not what I meant at all.”  
There's still a hint of hesitation but his fingers press closer against mine as I continue.  
“I really like being with you as well”  
We both smile at this.  
“It's just....we haven't had this conversation before, you know? You never called me your boyfriend before.”  
He nods slowly and says: “You're right. So let's talk about it now.”  
I copy his nod but don't know how to respond apart from that. For a few second we are both quiet, each of us thinking about what to say. Then Dan chuckles, bringing me out of my thoughts as he places his hands back on my hips and pulls me a little closer.  
“Phil? Would you like to be my boyfriend?”  
I grin, bringing my own hands to his shoulder and sliding my arms past them so that my fingers can connect behind his neck. We are incredibly close now but I still step the last bit closer, leaving our bodies pressed against each other.  
“I'd love to.”  
We both smile again.  
But then I think of something.  
“Hey Dan?”  
“mmhhhm?”  
“When you say boyfriend, do you mean like really officially? You know, holding hands in public, introducing you to my friends, celebrating our anniversary?”  
Hid eyes travel from my lips to my eyes while I speak and for a moment I am sure that he's about to distance himself again, his expression hardens and his grip loosens. But then a smile crosses his lips and his eyes are all shimmer again.   
“Yes, Phil. Really Official.”  
And then he leans in.  
This time I don't move away like when he first tried this, but instead mimic his movement while closing my eyes.  
His lips aren't as soft as I had imagined, but the smile I can still feel on them – now pressed against my own – makes up for that. I hear my heartbeat in my ears and wish it away so that I might hear his instead as he pulls me closer and kisses me again.  
When we pull away, it feels equally like no time at all and an eternity have passed.  
I rest my forehead against his, which means he has to lean down and I have to tiptoe a little.   
“So...” he starts but I interrupt him by pressing my lips against his, just for a second, just to taste him again.   
He chuckles and starts again: “So, dinner with my parents next week?”


End file.
